"You know exactly what the matter is," he replied through gritted teeth.
Taking his forearms, Jasmine brought them around her waist and caressed the veins on them, resting her head back on his shoulder.
"You know what?" she said in a delighted tone. "I actually like this."
He said nothing so she released his hands and got to her feet. "And deep down, Aaru, I think you really like it too."
There was so much passion in his eyes as he looked at her. "What did you call me?" he asked in a subdued tone.
"Why? You have a problem with it?"
A corner of his mouth curved up at the question. "No. I love it. Now get back here."
Jasmine stepped away before he had a chance to grab her. "I think that's enough for now. You need to leave."
He frowned when she said that, opening his mouth, no doubt to protest but Jasmine held up a hand.
"My terms, remember? You're the slave boy who dances to my tune. And I'm the princess who gets to call the shots. Take it or leave it."
He stood up so abruptly, she had to move away some more, disturbed by the fierceness of his expression.
"So, what, you're just going to play with me whenever you feel like it and then expect me to turn it all off just because you say so?" he demanded.
She refused to be intimidated by his angry words and simply nodded at him. Armaan's lips thinned, his whole posture frustrated and tense at the cruel way she had chosen to dismiss him after all the teasing.
But he didn't argue with her or try to change her mind. Instead, he strode out of the room, appearing as though he sincerely regretted having ever come near her.
****
Submission
11
Her book tours kept her pretty busy over the next few weeks. Even though writing was something Jasmine had always dreamed of making into a career, she was not a fan of the publicity that came with it. It was nice to have people reading and loving her work. Not so nice that they paid so much attention to her private life. That was one of the reasons she kept using her pen name everywhere instead of her real one. Real life Jasmine was tortured and sometimes even a little judgmental. Although, her interactions with a certain Italian playboy lately had many of her inhibitions melting.
He hadn't stayed away from her. Over the past three weeks, they'd gone from a few teasing phone calls and texts to some very blatant video calling. She made him take his clothes off for her almost every night and touch himself while she watched and he did it all without complaining. Jasmine could tell Armaan was starting to want more though. The fire they kept playing with was quickly turning into roaring flames and it was becoming hard to ignore. She'd even bought hand cuffs and stuff for the next time she saw him because she didn't trust him to keep his hands to himself.
It was exciting, exploring her sexuality with him and learning all the ways she could affect a man in the physical sense. The power seemed to go straight to her head, causing a serious addiction. She was doing every single thing right in her life but the darkness in some corner of her soul craved the forbidden. That was what Armaan Qureshi represented right now.
Alex had managed to find a temporary residence for her in Milan. A posh apartment with a huge glass wall on one side, giving her a spectacular view of the city. She hadn't furnished it yet but thankfully, Alex had arranged for the bare minimum, namely a bed, a couch and a fridge. She found herself liking the space but her solitary existence needed a little entertainment now. She'd worked hard these past few weeks and a little reward seemed to be in order.
So the day she returned to Milan, Jasmine cleaned her apartment, bought a few necessities and then gave Armaan Qureshi a call.
His voice was as warm and pleasant as usual when he answered. "Jasmine," he purred and she twisted around in her stool to lean back against the counter in her kitchen.
"Where are you?"
"I just checked in at the hotel in Milan. Why?"
"I want to see you. Tonight."
He let out a sexy laugh. "Well, somebody's insatiable," he teased, throwing her own words back at her from the other night when she had made him climax over the phone with her heated words and he had asked her for more. "I'm afraid I have plans tonight. I'm going to the fashion show with Alex around eight."
She narrowed her eyes at his dismissal of her request. Or demand. However one chose to see it. "You're saying no?"
He heard the edge in her voice and cleared his throat. "I can see you after."
She smiled wickedly. "It's not your call, Armaan. Or have you forgotten the deal?"
"Jasmine. I haven't forgotten a thing. But even slave boys need a break sometimes."
She was surprised. He'd never refused her before. And the fact that he found the prospect of attending some fashion show more appealing than her bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
"I might change my mind though," his voice came through suddenly. "If you said please..."
Jasmine tucked her tongue in her cheek. How dare he? Three weeks away from her and he seemed to have forgotten his place. He'd grown bolder. She heard him moving about, shuffling some papers and she knew that he was deliberately treating her this way. Taking the power back after she had ignored his request for more last night. That made her angry.
"Please, Armaan," she whispered, controlling her irritation, trying to sound nice.
The shuffling stopped. "Damn, Jasmine. Those two words
